Fast update! Here we have District Eight.
I just wanted to answer a few questions (one no one asked and one someone asked).
-The sponsor items will be posted after the bloodbath. This is because I want to see the total amount of points you can earn before I price everything up. This also stops you spending your points on characters that die in the bloodbath. I will refund you if this happens in the story but I don't want to let people down by thinking their character got the best backpack then they die.
-The victors in this story are the Tributes from the 75th Hunger Games. All but Haymitch, Mags and Buttress (District Eight Mentor). This is because Katniss and Peeta died and I thought Woof, not really knowing what was going on wouldn't be able to mentor. Also as Mags can't speak, I thought they would class Annie as a better choice to mentor. She still isn't stable but she is more with it than Woof. And I guess that Haymitch and Annie were the original Tributes for the 75th Games but someone volunteered for them. So this is what would have happened if there were no Victors Games.
Question: Do you have any headcanons for yours or any characters in this story? (out of the Tributes) If so, tell them and I might try and include some of them for fun (them being realistic of course).
Mikeo Nunez, 17
District Eight Male
I staggered back as the taller boy delivered another blow to my face. It sent shockwave of pain through my body as my lip burst on impact, splattering my upper lip and chin with blood. As I regained my composure, tilting my head up to the older man, I stuck my tongue out, gently pressing on the wound. I had bust lips in the past and it was nothing really, it just stung slightly.
The boy grinned, moving backwards, with his fists in front of his face. He had no reason to seem so cocky, I had gotten my own swings in and he looked in a worse state than me. His shere size was the only reason he was still standing. Maybe it was also his strength but hey, I was trying to focus on the positives!
As the boy got ready to swing another punch at me, the door to one of the houses behind us swung violently open. An old, gaunt woman stormed out, an arm full of washing and a dolly stick in the other.
Her beedy brown eyes scanned the group of boys, the older boy putting down his fists and straightening himself up. "What is going on here?" she growled, slamming the washing dolly on the ground.
The dark haired boy spoke up, like he was the innocent party in this whole situation. "I'm sorry if we disturbed you ma'am, this boy just started attacking us out of nowhere!" He glanced over to me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I wanted to punch his lights out or defend my case. Problem was, I didn't have a case, I was the one to start the fight and the first option wouldn't look good on me.
"I don't give a shit!" she hissed. "My daughter was in the factory all last night and you little shits just woke her up, have more respect for hardworking people in the future!" her words were wrong, me and my sisters worked more than most children our age after our father was put out of work. However, I knew when it was a lost cause and instead, hung my head low, avoiding eye contact.
The woman glanced over to me, then back over to the older boy, extending her index finger towards him. "And you, stop picking on children, you are a grown man!" and with that, she grabbed her dolly and stormed back into the old shack that was her home.
The older boy gave a shrug before taking off in the opposite direction, whispering a few things into my sister's ear before he went. As my older sister, Lorraine, ran over to me, I kept my eyes trained on the boy.
"Kid?" I mumbled "He is only three years older than me"
"You're a child until you are no longer in the reapings-"
"Two years then," I grumbled as the boy vanished around the corner.
Lorraine sighed. "Y'know, you really have to stop fighting people-"
"He called you a slut!" I protested.
"He is my boyfriend-"
"That makes it even worse!" I laughed in disbelief. My sister's expression softened.
"Mikeo, what do you know about love, you ain't ever had a girlfriend-"
"I still wouldn't treat her like that!"
Lorraine shook her head before turning on her heel. "You'll understand more when you experience love." As much as I loved my sister, I doubted her words in this moment.
Cerulean Westwood, 16
District Eight Female
The District past by my eyes, my feet barely touching the cobbled street as I raced by. Around me, factories pummeled thick black smoke into the sky, the mass curling through the already grey clouds that covered the District.
Inside the factories, people hurried around, silhouetted by the warm, flickering lighting from inside. In some areas, groups of people hung out the tops of windows, trying to get some fresh air into their lungs.
Outside stood Peacekeepers, their helmets off and a cigarette in their mouth, the smelly smoke filling my nostrils as I passed.
As I moved on from the factories, I was met with rows upon rows of wooden housing. This type of housing appeared large but in reality, three generations of one family would be packed inside the same building. Almost everyone in these types of housing spent their days and even nights in the factories, trying to earn enough for their family.
Kids stood on street corners, kicking around a solid ball of yarn for a football, stopping to let me by. It was late into the night but the adults of the house were most likely stuck in the factories allowing the children to have full rein to play. Their older siblings stood at the door ways, munching on some stale bread as they watched me go past.
They could tell I was from a slightly richer family. My brown hair was recently washed, my body clean of most muck, my family could afford more than a few baths every year. Not to mention my well fitting pants and vest top. After my father's death, he left me and my mother his life savings. My mother, instead of spending them out of grief decided to give me the best life she could possibly give me and my brother Jett. It was a nice feeling, knowing that when I got home after my run, I could clean the thin layer of sweat from my skin and dress in new, clean clothes. However, I was humble, I knew not everyone could afford such things so never would I flaunt it.
I only took such a route on my runs as it was the prettiest and less likely to judge. Sure, it wasn't pretty if you were to walk down it, blocked up drains and the sound of starving children made sure of that. However, just the blindness I felt as I raced past felt nice. It all moved past too fast, not having time to react to the smell, sound of visuals of a place. I saw what was on the surface and not the true horror that lies beneath. It may have been shallow but sometimes in this world, you need to focus on the surface beauty other than the reality otherwise you could go insane.
Mikeo Nunez, 17
Train Rides
I sat back in the velvet chair with my arms crossed, watching the TV screen. It was showing a recap of the year before, I had just watched Cato shot with an arrow in a twisted form of mercy, now I was watching the pair from Twelve convulses on the floor as the berries entered their system. Upon watching it again, I noticed that Peeta look far more at peace with the whole suicide than Katniss. To me, it looked like Katniss regretted the choice. Fear shimmered in her wide grey eyes as she clawed at her throat. She tried to pull some words free but all that came out was a croaking exhale. I assumed it was the name of her sister, that's what my final words would be. If me and Katniss had anything in common, it was the love for our sisters.
The scary thing was, I might soon be in Katniss' shoes. Hopefully not through the realms of suicide but dying a painful death was not impossible. In fact, it was more possible than me coming home. I wasn't much of a fighter, didn't know how to use weapons and I was far from a charmer. So that lowered them. In fact, I could feel my odds dropping to the same ones a crippled twelve-year-old would have. The idea of having the lowest odds might have been tragically funny if it wasn't me with them.
"This year, due to last years unfortunate circumstances President Snow has ordered that two victors, in love will win this year's Games!" Caesar said with a wide grin. At least they were not hiding their reasons for doing such a thing but it was annoying that they were hiding behind it being for The Capitol. They were just covering their own asses.
"I trust they are reporting a lot on the rebellions in Eight?" a high pitched voice said from behind me. I cocked my head to the side, viewing Cerulean who was stood in the doorway. She smiled at me, moving towards the sofa by the window.
I scoffed. "Of course, it's not like they have anything else to talk about!" I gestured towards the TV screen. Caesar was talking with a Capitol chef who was teaching the audience how to make District Ten bread. I had never been to Ten, neither had I met someone from there but judging by the expense of the ingredients they placed in the bowl, I didn't trust it was "traditional". "Are you a rebel?"
Cerulean shook her head. "No, I just want peace so my family is safe, you?"
I shrugged. "It's for a good cause but I would never put my family at such a risk and I'm sure they think the same-"
"Then why didn't they volunteer for you?" Cerulean's eyes widened after she said this. "Erm, no offense-"
"One is nineteen now, the other one, it was only their first year, they are also both girls. I'm just glad it wasn't them...no offense." Cerulean seemed relieved that I didn't take offence to her question. "What about you?"
"Brother, he is only eleven, he hasn't had to experience any of this yet."
I gave a small nod as I remembered back to when I was eleven. I knew what it was like from Lorraine but I guess the Reapings never bothered me, it truly is when you or someone you love is reaped that it hits you. I wondered how Lorraine and Anisha were reacting to me being chosen. No doubt Anisha would be in a flood of tears and Lorraine would be trying to comfort her while trying not to cry herself. I wanted to comfort them but I knew the only way I could do that would be to come home. Poor Anisha, she would be scarred for life if I failed.
Cerulean Westwood, 16
Train Rides
I talked for a few hours with Mikeo and our mentors Cecilia and Buttress after dinner. I wasn't able to finish the whole stew, there was far more than a simple District Eight girl like me could eat. Then again Mikeo ate until his cheeks had expanded.
Once everyone had retired to their rooms on the train, I found myself alone in the lounge cart, only the low hum of the train keeping me awake.
I had never been on a train before today, it was a lot like running in the sense of how fast the world went by. However, unlike running, I didn't have to regulate my breathing, temperature and think about oncoming objects. The train left me with time to filter through my thoughts or in my case, stress over them.
My father didn't die in the best way, poisoned. So running served as a way to help me forget even if it was only for a short time. Now, I wasn't sure when I would be able to run. I was sure The Capitol would have a track somewhere that I could use but the question was, would I have time to use it? I wasn't sure how busy a Tributes schedule was and I knew I wanted to spend my hours of training learning something other than running. That could only get me so far.
In the Arena, I would no doubt be doing plenty of running but not the type I enjoyed. I did it for fun, not to escape a sword.
Then there was Mikeo.
"Hey, I'm sure we could find somewhere in The Capitol," he told me when I told him my dilemma. Mikeo wasn't a threat and even so, telling him I enjoyed running didn't give him an advantage. Turns out he enjoyed jogging. Yet, I wasn't sure I'd be joining him.
Firstly, jogging wasn't my style and second, I didn't want to get close to him. Sure, two went home and it would be nice for Eight to get both people back. However, I didn't want to marry him. Plus, if I won, I would be close to his family for the rest of my life. If I saw him die, if I failed to protect him, I couldn't bear to look at the hatred in his sisters' eyes. As I didn't want to protect anyone but myself, Mikeo would be a mental liability.
I would rather ally and be paired with someone not from home, who didn't grow up around the same factories, smell and sounds as me. Who didn't want to discuss the good all days in Eight. Someone I hadn't seen around school.
I guess I just didn't want to end up like Katniss. Unable to win over my District Partner.
"You can only run from the problems in your life for so long,"